


Illusions

by twitch



Category: Midnight Special (2016)
Genre: Extended Scene, Gen, M/M, Missing Scene, Rating May Change
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-26
Updated: 2017-03-26
Packaged: 2018-10-11 04:06:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,182
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10454685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twitch/pseuds/twitch
Summary: Lucas wasn't surprised that he was handcuffed to the table. Tired by the interrogating he was willing to endure. When his new interrogator came in he tried to remain unsurprised. Continued to state the facts. Yet he was getting the impression that wasn't what Paul wanted.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't want to say that I was inspired by handcuffs... but I was. I'm positive that important things were left unsaid before Paul handcuffed himself to the car he and Alton stole. If that conversation didn't come up later when Lucas was handcuffed and left alone with Paul I'd be damned surprised.
> 
> Additional chapter may be posted. If I can figure out where to go from here.

Adrenaline drained from his body around the time he came to upside down, beige boots getting closer to the SUV.

The pain lingered in the days following. At least the dull ache in his head. The cuts and abrasions had been tended to, the whiplash would take longer to heal.

The agents were the headache. Asking for answers he couldn’t give. Getting the facts that they already knew confirmed.

Sarah and Alton were gone. Alton would never be found, not that they would believe him. Sarah fled, like she had before. It was easier for her. She had no connection to what was the perceived kidnapping. She was only the birth mother of the boy presumed missing. She didn’t commit any wrongs other than belonging to a cult who believed her son would enlighten the world. So they said. Being married to the man who kidnapped her son was more a matter of bad luck, the bad luck being that kidnaping was generally looked upon as being illegal, from the perspective of legal guardian watching the biological father taking off with his own son. 

Cult. Protective father-husband. Kidnapping. 

None of it would have happened had the cult never existed. The marriage and the conception. The cult took Alton away from them. She couldn’t watch them take him but Roy stayed behind to make sure he would never come to harm. On one hand their family never would have existed were it not for the cult but they never had the chance to be a family together. So Roy did what he had to do to keep Alton safe. 

It was a good thing he wouldn’t be getting his job back. His changing view of right and wrong would be a detriment. Shooting a State Trooper, albeit for his own protection from Roy, didn’t help either.

“Where is she now?”

Coming back to the moment, a moment repeated to tedium, he gave the same response. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

The man across from him didn’t look bored despite the routine, story repeated hourly and daily. “You think they just walked away.”

Had his fist left a bruise on his cheek from holding his head up for so long? The ache in his head travelling down to the right side of his face suggested it. “I didn’t say that.”

“Well then, just explain to me how, with multiple types of aerial and ground surveillance surrounding the area, they could simply walk away undetected.”

“I don’t know, but if he didn’t want you to see him, you wouldn’t see him.” He shifted his arms the amount the handcuffs allowed him. “Look, I could tell it to you as many times as you want, my story is not changing because it’s true. You know y’all saw the same shit I saw but keep asking me, if you want to.” They certainly had. It was the highlight of their days, not his.

“I’m done.” It should have been another miracle but his hopes were shot down. “They’ve sent in a specialist to speak to you. I suggest that you answer him.”

Suggestions weren’t going to persuade him otherwise. Nor surprise when the specialist entered. He drew up a little, more a formality than an actual want to behave. 

“Hello.” Lucas nodded in greeting slowly, regretting it as he did all head movements. “My name is Paul Sevier.”

Paul sat, opened his folder, writing something on one of his many papers. If it was more of the same questions he’d already endured he wasn’t concerned, didn’t try to read it. “I have some questions for you,” Paul continued. He gestured with his hand, an invitation to engage though his expression remained unmoved. It was always questions, rephrased but all the same. Paul spared him a brief glance up from his paperwork. “Would you like a drink of water? I can imagine you’ve been talking a lot the past few days.”

It hadn’t occurred to him to ask for one. Mostly for the fact that no one else had offered. He hadn’t ask for one because he didn’t want to require the assistance to use a washroom during the long sessions. “Are you getting me one?”

“I can have one of the guards get it for you.” At his nod Paul didn’t need to turn around, the guard closest to the door stepping out. “I work with the NSA.”

It made no difference to him. Specialist or agent, all addressed by clandestine industries that thought anonymity could be had by acronyms, it didn’t impress him. “Does that mean you have different questions for me?”

The intercom unit strapped onto the guard behind Paul peeled with feedback. The disruption could’ve been nice but the static and whine didn’t deter Paul. “If you have any valuable insight into them I would say they are different from the agent’s.”

He shrugged, unable to see how that could happen. “How can I help the NSA?”

“Did you have any part in translating the codes?” Paul set down his pen, setting several sheets of paper a top of his folder with numbers that he recognised.

“I never been to any of the sermons. Didn’t read them. That was all Alton and Roy’s work.” The first time he saw the numbers was when Roy arrived at his doorstep, frantic and in need of shelter before hitting the road. At the time Roy hadn’t known where he was going. “I didn’t know if there was a method to the sequence but I was the one who asked if they were meant to be coordinates. That was the extent of my help.” 

“And routinely finding vehicles to get you to your final location,” Paul pointed out.

He cocked his head slightly, not to challenge or to appear smug. “That doesn’t mean I can give you Alton’s location.”

“So I’ve heard.” The sound of the intercom continued to grate despite the guard’s attempt to fix the frequency and adjust any potential wiring problems. “Could you please fix that outside?”

“There’s supposed to be a guard present at all times.”

“The prisoner won’t be going anywhere with his handcuffs locked down to the table. And even if he’s not the conversationalist that everyone else wants him to be, he’s still been noted for his cooperation,” Paul reminded. He rattled his chains for emphasis, a quiet disturbance in comparison to the intercom. Paul glanced away from the guard back to him, nodded at the unspoken agreement. “You can stand watch outside the doors until you have that fixed.”

The guard frowned but stepped outside, frequency squealing.

Quiet returning, Paul shuffled his papers. “When did Roy Tomlin first contact you?”

Returning to the standard fare of questions he settled back into his chair. “Just over a week ago.”

Paul appeared surprised by that. He traced down a new sheet of paper with his pen, what looked to be a timeline written in short form. “He hadn’t emailed you or phoned you previously?”

“He arrived on my doorstep carrying Alton,” he reiterated, suppressing the urge to sigh. Instead he wrapped a thumb and finger around the screw on the table. “I hadn’t seen him in… many years before that. Not even a phone call.”

“So you aren’t… are close?” Paul hazarded. 

“We were best friends when we were kids, before his parents took him to join the cult.” How close that made them was questionable. So much as he could tell he was the only person Roy knew outside of the cult. The stops they made along the way were at houses where former cult members had set up new lives for themselves. “I reason he thought I was his best choice.”

Paul nodded, making an annotation on the timeline. Or a doodle. It all looked the same. “But he was able to make contact with Sarah. He had several contacts on the outside. Did he ever explain why he came to you?”

“I was his best choice? I think they all had a connection back to the cult, one way or another.” He could still hear the intercom, muted but not quieting down entirely despite the door. It did nothing to cover up a faint click. He glanced down to his chain, not thinking that it had shifted without his knowing. “He wanted someone that couldn’t be traced by them.”

“He trusts you.”

“You would have to ask Roy.” Answering personal questions would’ve been easy enough had he not been expected to give supposed answers concerning Roy. The same questions the agent had been asking would’ve been preferred over this. At least he could provide hard facts instead of fumbling towards what Paul might’ve been getting at.

Paul seemed to struggling with the same thing, glancing over his papers, numbers and text, pen drooping from his hand. “How…” Dropping it entirely he looked up, the corner of his mouth trying to curve up. “Can you tell me where is Sarah?”

“I can’t.” He tightened his fingers. “I don’t know where she is.”

“Is Alton with Sarah?”

That gave him pause. He dug a nail uselessly at the screw. “Physically? No.” A thought and he twisted his head slowly. “As far as one can see, no. Sarah might not know it but he could be with her. There is a world very close to ours that for the most part, we are unaware of. He could be out there watching her, keeping her safe from the agents who want to find her.”

Paul nodded, almost taking his pen back. “I saw it too.” Gazing at his pen Paul looked up, a sense of realisation on his features that had him tensing slightly. “Alton told me about it. Before I brought him to Roy I spoke with him. The FBI wanted to talk to him but he wanted to talk to me, alone. He is…” He shook his head, almost frowning. “Some people call him a weapon, others see him as a saviour.”

“He’s a boy.” There was no point to refer to him in the past tense. He wasn’t missing and believing in him as he did he knew he was safe where he was now, not hunted or kept like an animal. “He’s where he ought to be, safe, but he had a family. He has one that still loves him.” 

“He knew that, he needed to see them before he went home.” 

Turning his nails upon his other hand, fixed on a finger, he scratched, wondering how Sarah could’ve endured seeing him leave. How it would’ve felt. “At least they had that much together.” 

“They are a family. They deserved to have their final goodbyes.” Paul picked up his pen again, balancing it between both hands, fingertips at either end. “Had the FBI realised how much I was helping I would’ve been arrested alongside you and Roy. I should thank you for the handcuffs.”

“Anything to ease your guilt.” About ready to lift his hands, pressing a fist back against his cheek, he thinned his lips with a glance to the door. “Why are the guards not back?”

Paul studied his pen, making a point to not meet his gaze, despite the small object between them. “I was able to talk to Alton unobserved. The FBI personnel left the viewing room but somehow Alton managed to disable the camera-tv feed. As far as the camera could tell he remained seated even though he did stand up. He never moved towards the door despite making the lock disable.” Paul hesitated, thoughts unspoken for several seconds, lips moving soundlessly. “I witnessed his powers, saw a glimpse of what he could do. I think he gave me a sample of what he can do in the span of the past days, since he’s been gone. It’s slowly petering out but I can lock the doors so no one can get in. I can scramble electronics to prevent people from seeing or hearing what’s going on despite recording devices.”

He glanced up to the camera overhead, situated in the corner of ceiling and two walls. He bit the inside of his lip, lowering his hands down. Almost clenching them but letting them lie flat. “For what purpose?”

Paul schooled himself, looking past the pen to him. His glasses lens may have caught a fraction of the light at the right angle to gleam but Lucas was pretty sure it wasn’t an optical illusion. It felt too familiar. “I want to get you out of here.”

“I was on the run for three days.” He shook his head, a harsh laugh caught in his throat. “I am not doing that again.”

“I can find another way.” Paul set the pen down, placing his hand on the table, finger tips closer to his than he would’ve expected. “Consider it a courtesy for not punching me.”

The repetition of facts, the certainty of everything that followed the kidnapping, blurred. It was no trick of the light, an unfamiliar sensation sinking in his gut. “What are you up to?” Lucas asked, wary but gaze unflinching.


End file.
